


the reprise

by arexnna



Series: lost stars [19]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4146513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arexnna/pseuds/arexnna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“i run the night slot on campus radio and some jackass keeps calling in to insult my music taste and request high school musical songs instead” au</p>
            </blockquote>





	the reprise

The first time it happens, she's far too tired to care – the late hours she works, on top of the month’s worth of assignments that's been bestowed upon her just over the past week, and add that to the recent Neal episode, makes it impossible for her to give two shits. So when she gets the call from a seemingly familiar voice, telling her that the  _‘emo music’_  she plays in the early hours of the morning are too depressing for a Thursday night, she chooses to ignore the blatant jab at her taste, simply forcing a smile no one can actually see and moving onto asking what his request was.

(She wants to add  _‘besides insulting good music’_  in the snarkiest tone she can muster up, but decides against it – mostly because Jefferson had already given her her first warning on lashing out on listeners just last week, but also partly because  _she's a professional._ )

When the British accent asks ( _after a bit of background murmuring_ ) for  _What I've Been Looking For_ , she tries to stifle her laugh because he  _can't_  be serious. But once the song name’s come from his lips, he doesn't falter, and since she’ll probably be penalised for refusing a request, she plays it with a  _‘here you go!’_  that's far too cheery for 2 am on a Friday morning.

He ends the call with a  _‘thank you, lass,’_  pressing hard on the  _lass_  and really, who says that? He's all but spoken three sentences to her – one of them being an insult to her choice in music – and she's already infuriated by him.

Not caring enough to fight back, she just prays to the God she doesn't believe in that he'll never call back.

-/-

He calls back on the next Monday.

This time it's nearing eleven, which means Jefferson’s still in, sitting behind her with his legs propped up onto the coffee table and his laptop in his lap, typing an essay away when his voice greets her.

She groans inwardly when her mind registers the lilting accent, branding him  _‘The HSM Jackass’._

“Oh. You.”

“Aye, me.”

She catches Jefferson’s reaction in the reflection through the glass of the booth at her response, how his ears perk and he shifts his attentions towards her. She wants so badly to throw in a snide remark –  _‘come to insult me some more?’_  edging on the tip of her tongue – but with the strongest of restraints, she refrains.

Instead, with the sweetest tone she can muster, “What can I play for you today?”

She braces herself for the jab the ass is likely to throw, so when he replies with, “Well anything not as depressing as the last song would be great,” all she thinks is,  _‘Ah, there it is.’_

“What do you have in mind?”

“Anything from the sequel.”

“You’re joking.”

“Never.”

“ _Really?_  Again?”

There’s a soft thump on the back of her head and when she turns she finds a piece of crumpled paper laying on the ground, looking up to find an upset Jefferson with his brows furrowed.

Sending him an apologetic grimace, she swivels back in her chair, “I mean- right,  _of course_. Any song in particular?”

“Your pick.”

“I’m not so much a fan of—“

He hangs up before she can finish her sentence, leaving her alone on the line and she wonders where his manners are. It’s a live broadcast  _(s/o to the twenty other people on campus listening in!)_  and he decides to be a complete dick? If she ever does find out who the man behind the British voice is, she’s got a hand ready for a slap that he’s extremely deserving of.

She decides on  _I Don’t Dance_ , because while that’s she promises that’s not her genre, the song is catchy and she does vividly remember that scene from the movie with Corbin Bleu and Lucas Gabreel playing baseball while dancing and it’s probably her favourite part of the entire franchise.

_Not_  that she cared enough to watch the entire franchise.

“What was that about?” Jefferson arches a brow at her when she turns the mic off and turns towards him, a mix of amusement and forced sternness read on his face.

“You don’t want to know.”

-/-

“So what do you have to complain about today? The lack of pop in my playlist, or how  _Rhye_  is too  _emo_  for a Saturday night?”

It’s late and people are either partying, or studying  _(likely the former rather than the latter)_ , so there’s only a bunch of people listening in, and honestly right now, she doesn’t care for professionalism.

He chuckles, and even in that, his accent is distinct.

“You know me too well. And yes, your music is just  _awful_ , love.”

“Insult my music one more time and I could find a way to trace you, track you down and kill you, you know?”

“You wouldn’t,” his words come dripping with smugness, “I’m your only caller.”

Choosing to ignore that, “What’d it be today? Something from HSM 3 maybe?”

She swears she hears the grin in his voice when he says, “ _The Boys Are Back_ , if you will.”

-/-

She complains profusely to Elsa and Ruby, grumbling about the guy who disses her taste and then  _dares_  to ask for _High School Musical_  to be played. Ruby thinks it’s cute, the banter that goes on between them (– and great, one out of the handful of listeners that tune in is her best friend and if that doesn’t make her want to quit, she doesn’t know what will –), that he’s probably just teasing her and that she  _‘totally ships it’_ , even withstanding the fact that neither of the three actually know how the HSM caller looks like.  

Elsa tells her she’s overreacting, and that she’s taking the bait he leaves out, (she says from what she’s being told – Elsa doesn’t care enough to tune in, and Emma cannot blame her) that she’s falling straight into his trap of riling her up, and Emma guesses she’s right, promising both herself and them that she won’t allow him to provoke her the next time.

She finds she’s actually looking forward to that  _next time_.

But  _next time_  takes longer than expected and she swears it’s not like she’s waiting for him to call. Though when  _next time_  does roll along almost three weeks later, she can’t help the smile that grows on her face.

“Missed me, love?”

She scoffs, “You wish.”

“Aye, that I do.”

She tries not to grin at that, and when she fails, she tries, tries again. Checking to see the number of listeners and finding a staggering fourteen(!), she’s awfully tempted to hold up a conversation with the guy for a while longer.

“Yeah, yeah Casanova.”

“I have a name, you know.”

“Yeah and so do I – and it’s not  _love_  or  _lass_ ,” she bites back.

“But of course I know that,  _Emma_ ,” he drags the  _m_  and she swears she’s not reading too much into it, but she’s almost fully sure that he’s blatantly flirting with her over live broadcasting where others are (most probably, but not likely) listening in.

But almost as though she can’t control herself, “I don’t think it’s fair you know my name, but I don’t know yours,” and  _seriously_? Flirting back is the only other way she could think of replying?

“Everyone loves a little mystery, don’t they?”

And then he hangs up. That  _ass_.

(She plays  _Stick To The Status Quo_  and tries not to imagine the grin on his blank face.)

(She fails.)

-/-

It’s the next Monday when she finds out who he is, finally able to put a face to the voice when Ruby storms into her room – a seemingly familiar blue eyes, black hair, and the Facebook profile of one  _Killian Jones_  being shoved into her face.

He’s handsome, she admits – never out loud though, if Ruby ever found that out, the  _‘you should tap that_ ’ comments would be endless and Emma honestly doesn’t think she can handle that at every hour of every day.

But the next time he calls, being able to picture his face helps a lot. She doesn’t tell him, that she now knows his name and face, of course, deciding to keep that secret to herself and both Ruby and Elsa, preferring to finally have the upper hand over him.

And it’s only after she knows his face that it seems like she sees him everywhere.

-/-

The first time she sees him in person, it’s the day after Ruby’s discovery, walking on campus grounds with a stickered Macbook clutched to his side and a messenger bag slung over him and infamous self-proclaimed  _‘hype man’_  Will Scarlet by his side. He’s better looking up close – not that she was actually that close to him, but close enough to notice the cerulean blue of his eyes and the slight lighter colour to his scruff.

She catches his eyes for just a split second, holding his gaze for barely a moment as she passes by him before Will nudges him and nods his head in the opposite direction, his attention snatched away and directed the other way.

-/-

She sees him again on Friday. This time, he’s walking on his own towards Baldwin House, his nose stuck so deep into his book that he doesn’t notice her, and she almost fails to see it’s him. It’s the ruffled hair that she recognizes first, the messy black hair that sticks up in odd spots over the novel he reads, too immersed into the story that he bumps into someone else passing by, her stack of books tumbling to the ground.

Only then does he drop his book, tucking it away with apologies that come rolling out his mouth. She watches as he kneels down to help the girl, compiling all the fallen books before handing them back to her with several more  _sorry_ s spilling from him.

She curses inwardly, a part of her wishing he’d be a goddamn asshole and just walked away, but  _no_ , he has to be a  _decent_  guy, with kind eyes and an obnoxiously adorable accent.

He doesn’t see her, getting up after helping the girl and with one last  _‘I’m so sorry again, lass_ ’, a nod and a smile, before he continues on his way without ever noticing her.

-/-

He calls again between then and the next time, though this time, he doesn’t quite ask for a song, simply talking for a bit, mention of  _finals_  and  _stress_  and  _needing to just talk_. It’s one of her later shifts and there’s no one else listening in, and so they talk.

-/-

The next time she sees him, it’s on a Sunday. She’s forcing herself to cram in the library, going over notes she’s neglected for far too long until she swears she sees spots behind her eyes – until she swears she sees him.

He’s sitting in the corner of the library, signature mess of dark hair behind a stack of books, as his blue eyes are shielded by a thick frame of glasses with his eyebrows scrunched up in the cutest manner. He’s wearing a red sweater over a white dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and boy is he the most handsome nerd she’s ever seen.

It’s only when her feet’s carried her halfway towards him that she sees he’s wearing earphones, and she barely manages to think it through before the idiot in her speaks.

“Let me guess -  _We’re All In This Together_?”

After the words fall from her mouth does she only hear how much of a shitty opening line that is, especially being her very first words to him in person. She isn’t actually sure he knows how she looks like, the only thing she knew prior to this was that he knew her name, so if he didn’t recognise her voice,  _god, would this be awkward._

And at the confused look on his face, she’s almost tempted to just click her heels together three times and wish to go to goddamn Kansas for all she cares, but then his frown switches to a smile and thank  _God_.

He huffs out a laugh, pulling out an earbud at a time, “Funny thing is,” he grins, standing up to meet her eyelevel then tugging the hem of his sweater down, “I’m actually listening to your Spotify playlist.”

She reaches impulsively, turning his phone on without thinking, and there’s a smirk that grows on her face when she sees  _Alt J_ ’s  _Matilda_  playing on his screen.

“I thought my music was – and I quote – ‘ _so depressing that I can feel each cell of my body die at every word sung’?”_

He bows his head down, giving her a bashful smile from under his lashes, sending her the smallest nod that tells her to sit as he does, “Aye, I may have been a tad bit under the influence then,” he scratches his now-red ears and he is definitely not the ass she’d thought he was. “It helps me study,” Killian mentions, and he’s far too shy to be the same guy that’s been calling her in the past weeks.

She doesn’t allow herself too much smugness, letting them fall easily into comfortable conversation.

He’s smart and he’s witty, slightly geeky and awfully cute, his smile kind and his eyes gentle, and if she’s managed to convince herself that she didn’t already have a crush on him from just the (later) calls (because she swears she genuinely hated him at the start), she doesn’t see a way in talking herself out of this one.

-/-

Their feelings are mutual, but it’s far from easy for them to actually admit them, but when they finally do, after three months of rigorous denial, she’s never felt so high.

He takes law and she takes psychology, and she reasons that that’s why they’ve never crossed paths  _(though he says it’s because she just always failed to notice him – that he’s had a crush on her since the first time he saw her in freshman year, but she was always in a higher level of the pyramid, and it was only with the help of some liquid courage and the probing of Will that he’d plucked up the nerve to do something and make a move – if calling in anonymously even counts as a move)_ , but now that they have, she’s never been more grateful to Elsa for pushing her into taking up the job in the first place.

They’re together for the next one year and she makes him a playlist for every time he flies back to London, never failing to add a single piece of the High School Musical series soundtrack amongst her ( _brilliantly chosen_ ) songs. And even during their two months of ( _who were they even kidding_ ) a break from each other, needing to refocus on their studies, she still plays those songs on her shows, and he still listens to her playlists (knowing for a fact that the single rising number on her playlist’s listens at the late hours of the night are definitely from him).

And when she finishes her last paper, Ruby pushes her out of their dorm building and into the freezing night, only faintly managing to catch the chorus of  _Right Here, Right Now_  over her yells of trying to get back into where it’s warm and safe.

He stands there, on the outskirts of the lit area, walking closer from the shadows in all of his John Cusack glory, set with trench coat and boom box over his head like the idiot he is, and when he’s just a few feet from her, the closest he’s been in almost 60 days, with Troy Bolton singing  _‘but there’s always you and me, so lets make this second last’,_ the music turns off and she wants to hit him for making a High School Musical song be  _their song_.

She doesn’t though.

But instead, when she presses her lips to his, in reply to his  _‘if i still fail these exams I’m bloody well killing myself_ _,’_  she murmurs ‘ _you’re a fucking nerd_ ’ against his neck.

They both know that she means  _I love you._

-/-


End file.
